Blood, Bets and Backing Down
by icefire-lioness
Summary: When Ron Weasley makes a bet with Draco Malfoy, he is certain that he can win, and no-one will know what Draco Malfoy wanted if he won. And by no-one, he of course means Hermione. Now Hermione has to deal with the fall out, and it isn't going to be fun...


AN: Right, this was a Halloween fic exchange for the lovely Elena78 on SAYS. She's already read it somewhere else, but now I'm allowed to put it up here! I really hope you enjoy it; and I'd like you to tell me whether or not you do, so REVIEW! :)

-

"Have fun in the Quidditch match, Weasel?" Draco whispered, leaning over a little as he cut his daisy roots finely. Ron didn't look up, but his hands were shaking slightly on the handle of his knife, and his ears were red. Draco tried again.

"Must have been a bit of a shock, you know. To go from being scum of the earth to…oh, scum of the sky, say."

Ron's shoulders tensed and his chopping became more erratic. Draco smirked and said lightly, "Still, us Slytherins are very glad you're playing. Makes it so much easier to win, what with you as the world's worst keeper."

Ron made a 'huh!' sound, but kept his eyes trained on the daisy roots.

Then Draco said, "I guess you were thinking Granger would fall for you, with her penchant for Quidditch players and all. Pity she only has a thing for seekers."

Ron let out a little cry of rage, swung his fist back and punched Draco in the mouth. Draco made a horrified noise as his lip split and blood spilled down his silk robes.

He grabbed Ron by the collar and shook him roughly, his face twisted with anger. "This is a new set of robes, Weasel! You'll pay for this, you little maggot!"

Ron made a face at him and pulled Draco up by his stained robes, pushing him onto the stone floor with a grunt. Draco sprung up again quickly, and punched Ron in the nose. Finally, the stunned silence that had fallen over the classroom broke and the Slytherins were on their feet, shouting excitedly while the Gryffindors glared at them and made horrified noises.

Snape, stalking into the fray, roared, "Get off each other, you-" but was cut off as Ron pushed Draco back into a desk, which fell over, taking out a cauldron, which spilled a dark purple slime all over the floor and also, unfortunately, Snape. Ron then proceeded to punch Draco in the stomach, while Draco scratched, bit, and generally acted rather like a girl.

Ron pointed this out in a breathy gasp just as Draco kneed him in the stomach, and Draco retaliated by punching him in the nose. In a moment, dripping blood all over the stone floor, both boys felt themselves being picked up by the scruff of their robes and pulled apart. Snape glared at them, purple slime soaking into his robes.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor," he ground out, his black eyes flashing dangerously, "and fifty points from Slytherin."

The whole class groaned, and Ron and Draco hung their heads, though more out of exhaustion than shame.

"Now," said Snape in a silky voice, which sounded very much of pain to come, "get out of my classroom. I do not want to see you. I do not want to hear you. You will get out, and you will stay out."

Draco looked up in astonishment. "Are you kicking us out of the class, sir? As in, for good?"

Snape breathed through his nose, his eyes blazing. "Get out. _Out_!"

He let go of their robes in disgust, and the two boys skulked out of the classroom to the livid hisses of their classmates. As the door closed, they heard Snape roar, "QUIET!" and then there was silence in the corridor. Draco and Ron glared at each other, wiping the blood from their faces.

"I'm not doing Quidditch because of Hermione," Ron said fiercely after a moment, and Draco grinned.

"Yeah, right. You fucking worship her. I can see it whenever you two are around, it's fucking disgusting. Just get a blow up doll and stick a mop on its head, there! Home-made Mudblood."

Ron growled and launched himself at Draco again, but the other boy sidestepped and Ron was left to clutch at empty air. Draco leant against the wall.

"But you haven't denied that you're shit at Quidditch," Draco pointed out smugly, and Ron growled again.

"I'm better than you," he said, and Draco's eyes lit up.

"You wanna bet on that, Weasel boy?" he asked, and Ron narrowed his eyes, considering for a moment.

"Fine. If I win, you have to be my slave for a week," Ron said, pushing his red hair out of his eyes. Draco smirked.

"Wow, Weasley. I never knew you would be so open about your queerity."

"'Queerity' isn't even a word, Malfoy," Ron scowled, "and I'm not queer, so shut the fuck up!"

Draco smirked, fascinated and pleased with the reaction that Ron gave so easily.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You keep lying to yourself, Weaselby. We all know you fancy me. I am, after all, a fucking _legend_."

Ron growled, pushing his fists into the pockets of his robes in order not to hit Draco.

"Fuck off. One minute it's Hermione, the next it's you. Make up your bloody mind. Anyway, what's yours?"

Draco grinned lazily, leaning up against the wall.

"Granger. If I win, I get Granger."

Ron stared at him for a long moment, speechless.

"What?" he managed finally, his eyes wide. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Granger," he repeated, "I get a date with Granger if I win."

Ron opened his mouth and then closed it again quickly.

"I…I don't understand. _Why_?"

Draco grinned again. "Oh, you know. The usual reasons. Sex, torture, classical music. Snakes and spiders."

Ron blinked. "I–what?"

"Never mind, Weasel. So, do we have a deal?"

Ron bit his lip. Hermione would kill him for using her as a betting tool, but he was almost certain that he could win against Malfoy. The threat of murder by Hermione, however, was not an empty one. He tried compromising – not an easy feat, when you were doing it with one Draco Malfoy.

"Could you maybe-" Ron began, but Draco cut him off with a lazy, "no."

Ron tried again. "I mean, Hermione isn't-"

"No dice, Weasley. You either take this, or you're backing out. Are you backing out?" Draco asked slyly, knowing how Ron would react to such a question and using it to his advantage.

"No! A Weasley doesn't back out! Especially not when it's a Malfoy/Weasley family honour thing. Anyway, I'll win, so Hermione doesn't even need to know about it."

"Right," Draco drawled, inspecting his fingernails. Ron paced back and forth for a few seconds.

"Fine, fine, alright. That's our game, then? You win, you get a date with Hermione, and if I win, I get you as a slave for a week?"

"Gay," Draco coughed, while Ron glared.

"Can we just play?" Ron asked, and Draco nodded, still grinning as they set off for the Quidditch pitch.

-

The game was short-lived. Ron blamed the tree, the unruly goal-post and the plastic bag, but however you looked at it, as a gleeful Draco pointed out when they reached the ground, Ron had lost. And now Ron had to tell Hermione.

-

"You BETTED on me? With MALFOY?"

Ron looked uncomfortable.

"Well, not _on_ you, so much as you were the…uh, prize."

"With _Malfoy_?" Hermione shrieked, and Ron winced. He had known that telling Hermione was going to be difficult, but he hadn't really expected his ears to suffer so much damage.

He nodded warily. Hermione glared, leaned over and punched him in the arm. Ron rubbed the spot ruefully. She really did have a good arm on her.

"I know you're upset-" he began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Upset? Upset? Oh, Ronald Weasley, you have no bloody idea! I am FURIOUS!"

Ron looked at the ground.

"It's only one date," he said pleadingly, looking back up at her, "please? I'm really sorry, I really am. I thought I could win against him, though. And…well, it turns out I'm actually a really bad Quidditch player."

He looked down at the carpet in abject despair. Hermione let out a bark of disbelieving laughter.

"Don't you dare, Ron! I am _not_ going on this date just because you feel sorry for yourself."

"How about, because I made a promise?"

"Without. Asking. Me." Hermione said through gritted teeth. Ron put his head in his hands.

"Please, Hermione," he mumbled through his fingers, "Please, I'm begging you! Malfoy'll skin me alive if I go back on my promise!"

"Why does he even _want_ this?" Hermione asked, not looking at Ron. Her voice was slightly hysterical.

Ron shrugged. "I'm not really sure. I think it might be because he knows that I like…" he trailed off and Hermione turned to look at him.

"What? What were you going to say?"

Ron flushed bright red.

"Chocolate," he said uneasily, "he knows that I like chocolate, and he promised that you'd be having lots of chocolate. So he's making me jealous?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You're an idiot. Look, because you made the promise…I'll…go on a _date_ with Malfoy," she shuddered, "But remember, you owe me. I'm going to make sure you pay for this."

She considered for a moment. "That's all this is, right? That's all he wants? I don't have to…I don't know, kiss him or anything, do I?"

Ron looked slightly sick.

"I don't know," he said truthfully, "I mean, he only said a date. He can't seriously expect…"

"Who knows what a 'date' means to a Malfoy," Hermione said, feeling her stomach turn, "oh, this is ridiculous. He can't _tell _me I have to do anything, so a talking date is all this will be. I don't care what he would normally expect."

Ron nodded, but he was frowning.

"I didn't really think…what if he's doing this just to hurt you? Maybe I should come along, just in case."

Hermione smiled.

"Ron, that's sweet, but I'm sure it'll be fine. And I can promise you, Malfoy would _not_ be pleased if you tagged along."

"Who cares if he's pleased or not? He asked for a date with you, he never specified that it had to be alone."

Hermione hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"He wouldn't let you," she said, still smiling, "don't worry about it, alright? I'm still angry at you anyway, so you'd better piss off. When is this date, anyway?"

Ron looked uncomfortable.

"Tonight. Eight thirty. Room of Requirement."

Hermione looked shocked. "He does like to move fast, doesn't he? Almost as though he planned it all."

"He's too stupid," Ron said, and Hermione laughed, pushing him off the couch.

"True. Alright, I have to get ready. Get out."

Ron stood up and walked to the door. With his hand still on the handle, he turned back to her. "I'm really sorry, Hermione," he said sincerely. Hermione laughed and threw a cushion at him. "Yeah, yeah, go on. I'll make you pay for this later."

-

Hermione stood outside the Room of Requirement for a few minutes, not moving. The door was open slightly, so she guessed that Draco was already inside. She breathed in deeply and opened the door.

"Evening," a low voice said from a corner of the room. Hermione looked around warily. The Room of Requirement had been made into a sort of dining room, a round wooden table in the middle, candles (oh, she _hated_ candles. Why were they so bloody romantic?) And Malfoy, opening a bottle of wine.

"Evening," she said lightly, sitting down across from him. Steam rose in inviting tendrils from the food in front of her. Despite her best efforts to look as though nothing surprised her, or in any way made her feel nice, her mouth watered at the sight. Draco grinned.

"You look lovely," he offered, and she _had_ tried, thinking that, at the very least, he wouldn't be able to say she looked awful. She picked up the wine glass that he had just set in front of her and took a sip.

"You look just as ferrety as ever, Malfoy. Lovely wine."

Draco sighed. "Granger, could we please-" he cut himself off and reached for her wineglass, which she was staring at. Uncurling her fingers delicately, he took the wineglass and set it down next to her plate. Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

"I've always wished I could do that," Draco said wistfully of the eyebrow, "but I just looked as though I was having a stroke."

Hermione almost laughed, but stopped herself in time.

"Now Granger, as you know, this date is because of a bet. I won a date with you…"

Hermione shook her head in disgust, but said nothing.

"Which, admittedly, was not the most romantic way to go about it. However, in the circumstances – you hating me, for example – it seemed the only way."

Hermione snorted. Draco ignored her.

"So, seeing it is a date, and people are generally nice to each other on dates, that being the main premise of 'the date', I propose-"

"So soon?" Hermione cut him off wryly, and picked up her wine glass again. She had a feeling it would be the only thing standing between her and apocalyptic rage by the end of the evening. Draco, again, ignored her.

"-That we attempt to be courteous to one another."

"You," Hermione said, spinning the wine glass in one hand, "have got to be fucking with me."

Draco looked thoughtful. "I could later, I suppose. Depending on how well the date goes."

Very calmly, Hermione said, "Fuck off."

Draco smiled. Hermione added, "Moronic imbecile."

"Aren't you just repeating the same insult?" Draco pointed out in a friendly way, "Stupid, stupid?"

"I need to say it twice," Hermione said coldly, "because you are twice as stupid."

Draco smiled again, which made Hermione want to hit him. Repeatedly.

"Are you hungry?" Draco asked after a moment, breaking their staring match. Hermione let out a breath through her nose.

"Yes, alright." She picked up her spoon and had swallowed a mouthful of soup before she looked up at him again.

"Malfoy, I'm confused," she said, setting down her spoon, "I mean, I don't understand what's going on here. Why is this –" she swept a hand around to take in the candles, the wine and the food, "all set out? What are you hoping to achieve? Why did you want to go on a date with me?"

"I like you," Draco said calmly, moving the salt cellar so that it was parallel to the table edge. He swept salt crystals from the metal lid of the salt cellar, letting them fall onto the table, and then ran a finger along the wood so that they fell onto the carpet. A few grains stuck in the ridges of the tabletop, and Hermione sneezed, though the two were not related. Draco looked up, but Hermione wasn't looking at him, instead staring at the salt stuck in the table.

"You should get that out," she said into the uncomfortable silence that followed, and handed him a toothpick. Draco stared at it in confusion for a moment, and then looked back up at her. He set the toothpick on the edge of the table, where it wobbled precariously for a second, and then fell to the floor. Hermione picked it up and inspected it.

"Did you hear me?" Draco asked after watching her stare at the toothpick for a few minutes. Hermione looked up and then back down, her brown eyes innocent.

"No. Not really. Don't worry, I'm sure it wasn't important, so let's forget it, eat dinner, and then you and I will leave and get on with our lives. Alright?"

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"You asked me why I wanted this, and I answered your question. Have the courtesy to listen, _please_."

Hermione ignored the tenseness of his shoulders, and the way his fingers (pale, and so _long_) were curled around the bowl of his wineglass, so that she could look up at him and say lightly, "Malfoy, leave it. I decided that I didn't want you to answer my question after all. So, seeing as we're being _courteous_, respect _my_ wishes and say nothing more on the subject."

Draco narrowed his eyes again, though he inclined his head. Hermione smiled in satisfaction. After another moment's silence, however, Draco glared at her, his eyes blazing.

"Actually, no!" he said loudly, his fingers gripping the wine glass even tighter, "No, Granger, I don't think I will shut up this time. See…alright. I like you Granger, I do. Really, I do like you quite a bit. I don't know why, because you are…everything I was bought up to believe was wrong with the world, and …you aren't…_prettier_ than most girls, so it isn't as though this is just a physical attraction, and you know…"

Hermione stopped listening after that, and as he rambled, occasionally bringing his hand down onto the table to express his disgust for some aspect of the subject or other, Hermione was unavoidably reminded of Mr Darcy's speech to Elizabeth Bennet about how she was unsuitable but he loved her anyway. Hermione grimaced at the thought. How like Malfoy, to do something so literary. He would be offering her absinthe and opium next. Although, there was one difference between Malfoy and Mr Darcy, she decided. In that Elizabeth ended up loving Darcy anyway.

She tuned back in after a minute or so, and cut him off at a particularly adamant exclamation.

"Malfoy," she said, putting a hand over his, which was balled into a fist, "Malfoy, I don't want to hear all that, alright? You don't like me, don't be ridiculous. What you feel for me is, no doubt, a mixed up something of emotions that all comes down to the fact that you have somehow mistaken hatred for lust. I don't know why you have, and now of all times, but it will be good for everyone when you snap out of it. So. Are you done?"

Malfoy shook his head stubbornly.

"It's not that, Granger. I know it isn't. I don't know why I've got these feelings, but I do…so, don't mock them, because I can't stand that. Please, please, just…hear me out, alright?"

"I've heard enough already, Malfoy," Hermione said, shaking her head, "you can say whatever you like about this being real, but it isn't. You know yourself that it isn't, so why are you fighting it?"

Instead of saying anything, Draco leant forwards, still grasping Hermione's hand tightly, and kissed her gently. Though there weren't fireworks, or classical music, or any of the things that Hermione had expected from a first kiss, it was sweet and pleasant and he tasted of wine, which was making her feel slightly dizzy. Or perhaps that was what he was doing with his tongue.

She pulled away eventually, licking her lower lip experimentally. Somehow, he had managed to make her lips taste of his. Sort of sweet and alcoholic. She ran her tongue over her lip again. Draco looked at her, not moving.

"I have to go now," Hermione said, standing up rather unsteadily, "There are some basic principles that I now have to go and rethink."

Draco bit his lip, his breath hitching occasionally in his throat.

"Can we talk, maybe? Just for a bit?" Draco asked, frowning a little. Hermione tried to turn back but stumbled on the carpet. Did Draco have poison-laced lips or something? Her brain was not _working_ properly.

"Erm," said Hermione, "I really think I have to go."

As she put her hand on the doorknob, Draco called out after her, "Do you believe me now, though? That I like you? Because…because I do."

Hermione turned and looked at him. "Of course not," she said, but she smiled. Perhaps there was more to this than she had originally thought. Draco smiled back, looking relieved.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said softly, and she opened the door. After taking a few steps down the corridor, Hermione touched her fingers lightly to her lips, and turned back to the still slightly open door. Her hand rested on the handle for a moment, and she pushed the door open again.

Her voice coiled through the silence like a sigh. "Do you still want to talk?"


End file.
